Author's Note: This story contains themes of incest and BDSM. If these themes offend you, stop here. All characters in this story are fictional. Any relation to actual people is purely coincidental. All characters involved in sexual encounters are over the age of eighteen.
This installment is lengthy with a long introduction, and not intended to be a quick stroke story. When I started this story I was focused on writing a story centered on the characters, not the sex. Could I have shortened this considerably? Probably. I didn't want to.
Lastly, I enjoy writing and sharing my stories and encourage people to vote and comment. No comments are ever deleted, even the scathing criticism.
Thank you, Winter Lotus! I appreciate you so much. And thanks to my beta readers too!
Enjoy the read!
*****
THE DIARY
******
"What happened? That's such a complicated question. Maybe you should ask how it happened. Or why it happened. The story starts at the end. But the end is really the middle. And then it goes to the beginning before getting to the end, which really isn't the end at all. I mean, I'm here talking to you, aren't I? And people always ask me if it's Sarah's story. I guess what people know of it would make them think it's Sarah's story. Some people think it's my story. I hate to think of it that way. I don't think that's modesty. When you hear all of it-the part that people don't know-you may think it's Callie's story. You see, you're asking to hear about the
whole
story. Everyone thinks it's this story of a life... or two lives... but it's much more than that. It got out of control."
"The diary was just the beginning. Sarah couldn't have known when she first put pen to paper what it would become... or what would happen because of it. But the diary is just a piece. And people make assumptions about me when they read it. They think I'm a kind man or thoughtful man or at least well intentioned. Some people think I was a great husband and good father. Others think I'm a deviant. But when they hear the whole story... for those that hear it... I think a lot of people will wonder. They'll look at me and wonder if I'm a bad man. Or maybe I'm a victim of circumstance. Was it all a big mistake? I don't know. It was a misplaced piece of writing. The intentions were pure. The results were sordid. It was a thank you and a goodbye gone awry."
"For those of you who wonder if I really loved my wife, I guess I would tell you to go fuck yourself. I loved her as much as a person can love someone. I'd burn down the world for another minute with her. What happened after Sarah...well... it happened. I realize that I'm the constant in this story. If you unraveled the whole tangled mess back to the beginning—back to the cause that would affect all these lives—it would end up with me, not the diary-just a kid version of myself with a voracious sexual appetite. When I was younger I called it a dark place. With Sarah I called it my dark needs. After Sarah, years after, I called it for what it really is—an inner beast—insatiable and consuming."
"It's not that I caused harm to anyone. Not really. Although some people might disagree. That part of me was always something I had good control over. Maybe it got out of hand when I first met Becca. I mean I controlled it but it worried me. She taught me to master it. I learned to balance it with Sarah. After her, I thought I put it to rest. But then I realized that it's not something I could separate from myself. I think the Johnny Cash song summed up how I feel about it. How did the lyrics start?
The beast in me is caged by frail and fragile bars, Restless by day and by night rants and rages at the stars.
Did I really expect that I could ignore it forever?"
"But don't be fooled about the root cause. You can judge me if you want. I blame Sarah's diary. Something had to wake those urges inside me. So I don't consider it my story at all. It's the story of many people, not just me and Sarah, all of whom were drawn together by one thing—a diary. So in the end what do I think about myself? I tried to be a good person. I tried to be a good husband. I did my best as a father. I was always well-intentioned. And once you hear it all—the whole sordid mess—you may think I'm a bad guy. I guess when I think back to the beginning and then all the way through it, I don't much care what anyone thinks. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not."
"So it's best to just start with the end... or the middle... and you can think what you want. But first let's start with my name. I'm John Anderson. And what follows next is the entirety of it... the tangled mess that brought me here—to the other side of the country—to this strange place..."
******
Sarah rubbed a small wooden cross between her fingers feeling the smooth lacquered finish. It had a simple string attached to the top and she kept it wrapped around the palm of her right hand. She'd had it since she was a girl. It was a gift after her first communion. Dark circles surrounded her sunken eyes, which told a story of a battle long fought and nearly ended. Her frail, thin arm reached up and her hand rubbed across the smooth, hairless curve of her scalp. She was so tired.
The room smelled sterile. It felt cold and lifeless here. She pressed the button on the side of the hospital bed listening to the electric motor as it lifted her upright. She was used to the pain now. It hardly felt like anything at all, like a new normal tempered by a cocktail of meds. She smiled at the vase of stargazer lilies on her tray table.
"Theresa, would you pick one of the flowers and hand it to me?" She asked with a weak voice.
The nurse was busy setting out her evening pills. She gave a silent nod as she picked a perfect pink and white bloom and handed it to her. Sarah held it up to her nose and inhaled the floral scent. Her eyes betrayed a hint of sadness. It was her favorite flower. John made sure that she had a fresh arrangement in her room every day for the last two months.
"You can send him in now." Sarah finally eked out.
She had thought a lot about this moment, about what she'd say. She was at peace with it now, but seeing him come through that door made it seem so hard. John padded quietly to her bedside. His dress shoes echoed in the quiet room. His tie was loosened around his neck with his collar button undone. The tears rolled down his cheek.
"Now, now, John." Sarah chided him with a soft smile. "I don't want to see any tears. I don't think I've seen you cry since Callie had that one-hundred-five degree fever and she fell and broke her arm. Do you remember that? She was burning up. She was only three and you held her in the back seat of the car on the way to the hospital like you'd never let go. I'd never seen you cry before that day... not my strong man, my rock."
"I remember." He replied quietly.
"You have to be there for her now. I need you to hold onto her again and make sure she's safe. You have to do it without me. It's unfair. I'm sorry."
"I... I'm not ready for you go." He choked out.
"It's not up to you or me anymore."
"But you were my best thing. Life doesn't make sense without you."
"That's not true." She wrapped her cold, thin fingers around his. "You gave me everything I ever wanted. A beautiful home. Beautiful clothes. Beautiful jewelry. You made us a family. You did that for me. You made me happy. We have more than we deserve because of you. If anything, you were my best thing."
"I don't want any of it." John caressed her hand. "None of it matters. It was all for you. You were all that mattered. You and Callie."
Sarah squeezed his fingers with the little bit of strength she had. "I still remember the night we met. I knew the second I laid eyes on you that I was in trouble. I knew then that you'd change my life. Do you remember what you whispered in my ear that night? I thought I would die right then. I wanted you to come upstairs so badly. But you wouldn't. You wanted to tease me. You were it for me. I knew it that night."
"I can't ever love another woman, Sarah. It's just not right."
"Nonsense. You have needs and I expect you to fulfill them. You have my permission to be happy again. But more than anything I want you to promise to be as good to Callie as you were to me. Give her a good life."
"Of course!" John sputtered. "Of course I will."
"Take her out of the city, John. Give her a nice house with a yard. Would you do that for me?"
"Yes! I'll do anything you want."
"I packed some stuff away. I want her to have it when she's older. It's in that vintage trunk in the closet. I wrote her a letter. I'm not sure if it says the right things. Make sure she gets it..."
"Mom?"
John and Sarah turned to see Callie standing in the door. Her small hands clutched her iPod nervously. She was too scared to move.
"Come her, pumpkin." Sarah said as she held her arms out. Callie ran forward and climbed up on the bed next to her. "Don't be scared. Everything will be alright."
"Are you coming home soon?"
"No, pumpkin. Mommy's really sick. I want you to have this." Sarah took the small, wooden cross and slipped the string around Callie's neck. "You and dad are going to be okay without me. And I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be with you in here." She pressed her hand against Callie's heart. "I'll be your very own guardian angel."
Callie buried her face in her mom's hospital gown and cried. Sarah laid her head against Callie's and held her. Pain and sorrow filled the room. John quietly opened the door and stepped back into the hallway giving them time alone. And then the reality of everything crashed in on him at once and he broke down.
******
John busied himself setting out more crackers and cheese cubes. He shifted the dishes of hors de 'oeuvres and straightened the stack of cocktail napkins.
"John, let me do that. Don't worry yourself with it." Maggie said in a comforting tone.
"Sarah always set everything out when we had guests." He was still concentrating on the layout. "She had this way of making everything seem perfect." He fiddled with the stack of silver cocktail forks. "It still doesn't look right." His hands shook and he knocked over an empty glass. "Shit." He muttered hitting the table lightly with his fist trying to control his emotions.
Maggie put a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward her. "I'll take care of it, John. Go be with your guests. Talk to Callie. She needs you."
"I need Sarah." He replied painfully.
"I miss her too. She was my daughter. I understand. But you need to be strong for Callie."
John lifted his head scanning the room. Friends and family mingled in black attire. He could hear scattered conversations about Sarah as people remembered the wonderful times they shared with her. His eyes settled on the small body sitting on the window ledge in the living room looking out over Central Park. Callie had her earbuds in and clutched her iPod with a distant, lost gaze. Her simple black dress was wrinkled as she held her knees tightly against her chest.
"She's only ten." He said as he watched her. "She lost her mother at ten years old. I'm scared, Maggie. I'm scared that she'll never be the same. I'm scared that I can't do it on my own. I'm broken inside. What if she can see that? What if I mess her up more?"
Maggie smiled through her big tear filled eyes. "Sarah made some choices that I didn't agree with when she was younger. Marrying you wasn't one of them. Being a parent isn't easy, John. It's not supposed to be. You were good for her and for Callie. Trust me when I say that you'll get through this. I'm not saying it will be easy. But you'll get through it"
"Thanks, Maggie." John gave her a hug.
"Did you want me to take her for a few weeks while you get things settled? It might be good for her to get away."
"We won't be staying here much longer. I made a promise to Sarah to raise her out of the city. I want her to be here with me to look for a new home. I'd rather just upend everything at once and start new."
"I'm here if you need me."
"I know."
